


To Build A Home

by akingman



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Minor Character Death, Multi, au where jokaste leaves her son to damen and laurent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17195090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akingman/pseuds/akingman
Summary: In Jokaste's will, she has left her only son, five-year-old Theo- to both Laurent and Damen.





	To Build A Home

  
  


#  **To Build A Home  
**

**written for my good ol pal who inspires me to write about our beautiful kings.**

  
  


Laurent wakes up to The Call. In all of his twenty-three years of life he had figured that the most important people in his life would leave him. What he hadn’t expected was to lose one of them in a quick and horrible way. He spent a good hour or two kneeling over the toilet and dry heaving into the bowl with thoughts swirling inside his head He tried tell himself that no it wasn’t true; Jokaste was not dead.

 

The officers had guided him through a ten minute conversation and had said this: “Jokaste was driving in the dark late that night when an oncoming truck came into the opposite lane and had struck her from the side. Unfortunately, Mrs. Jokaste did not make through the sustained injuries. Her son Theo was remarkably safe from the crash save for a few bruises and cuts.” And they had proceeded to tell Laurent that in legal papers Jokaste had assigned her son, in case of death with no near relatives, that he and a man named Damen should take custody of her son. Laurent managed to empty whatever was left in his stomach and had then began to uncontrollably sob

 

Laurent didn’t know who Damen was except for the few times Jokaste had mentioned him. Laurent had been sick the day of Jokaste's wedding ( and he did not hear the end of that ) he hadn’t been in attendance and wasn’t able to meet the man face to face. Every now and then she mentioned him in passing but never invited him to their outings together. Then again, Laurent had a short attention span and he rarely could keep track of Jokaste’s topics as it was. He was hoping the minute he stopped staring into the mirror that he could call this Damen and ask him to take the child. Laurent loved Jokaste for the fact that she was his best friend. She was there for him for thick and thin for ten years and she was somewhat like an anchor to his fleeing heart. He loved her dearly. But a child? Jokaste should have known by now that Laurent was not good with children and he certainly did not want any of his own. 

 

When he came to the flicker of a cheap light bulb pulsing and flickering in and out- it was very, very cheap- Laurent decided then that he had to do something. He would not take Theo into custody and maybe that was cold of him to do so, but he had no faith in himself. Being raised in a broken home with the loss of his brother wasn’t a good start, and now he was faced with the loss of a friend. He would help plan the funeral and gather friends and family, he would contact Damen and possibly meet him and encourage him to create a scratch-book or two and then he would convince this Damen to take custody of Theo. First Laurent had to find something to wear.

 

 

 

Laurent owned less black than he was pleased with. His silk shirts were white or rose gold and they were made of cheap quality that screamed rip-off, second-hand stores with sketchy reviews. It was Jokaste that had said it was better to be cheap than broke and that Laurent could wear anything and get away with it. He had laughed at her until she pointed out how many looks he had been getting and he had swatted her pointing finger away in embarrassment. She was the light of his life in dark times and she introduced him into a more colorful wardrobe. Long before he had only warn black in mourning for things he couldn’t escape. She was his greatest hero. And now he stares at himself in the round mirror propped up against his custard wall and stares at himself while holding up a black turtleneck. It is worn down from use and had probably shrunken in time and from the few beatings it had taken in his cheap washer and dryer. Laurent put it on because it was the only wearable black article of clothing he owned and he could not face Jokaste for the last time in anything other than the right color. He didn’t want to upset her- not that he could- and decided to go appropriately with the color associated occasion.

 

He waited impatiently in the kitchen on his small flip-phone and dug his nails deep into the counter. He was trying to dial Damen and get into contact with him to go over the legality of the papers and persuade him to help with the funeral arrangements but the man didn’t seem to pick up. It wasn’t a surprise that a person in mourning could have a delay or be in hiding during a difficult time. For Laurent he was used to these difficult feelings of grief and pain and had been through a lot in his childhood. Some days were easier to forget- to let loose of the weight on his chest and pretend. And then there were some days he couldn’t. Losing Jokaste hurt like hell but for now he had to bottle those frustrations and sorrows and focus; Theo was her child and he needed someone now more than ever, and Laurent definitely wasn’t the right guardian.

 

The line on the other end clicked and Laurent exhaled after realizing he had been holding his breath the entire time. He held the phone tight against his ear and waited. He heard silence and then the occasional breath but neither of them spoke first until Damen did;

 

“Laurent? Vere?” The man on the other end asked.

 

Laurent’s heart tugged at the voice of a man who seemed on the cusp of falling and Laurent knew the sound all too well. The voice of someone who had spent hours crying. He takes a deep breath and nods his head only to realize that Damen can’t see him. Damen also could not hear the rapid beat of his heart. His thumb inched closer to the END call button before Damen spoke again.

 

“She talked about you,” He said.

 

Laurent gathered himself and looked down at the papers stacked beside his hand where he rested it against the counter for support. He hadn’t realized his grip had slipped and his waist was digging into the side. He tried to focus on the task at hand. They were two now broken men, scrambling to gather what was lost and what they had found now.

 

“Do you have the papers?” Laurent asked instead, keen on directing their conversation to somewhere more comfortable- safe.

 

He was met by silence on the other end and then muffled whispering on the other end and Laurent thought possibly that Damen was weird enough to talk to himself before the voice in the background got louder. There was someone else there. Laurent gripped his phone tighter and thought briefly that this conversation was far more important and demanded more attention than he was currently receiving.

 

“Damen.” Laurent bit.

 

The other end was quiet again and shuffling sounded in the back as Damen seemed to careen back to their conversation. Laurent bit into the nail of his index finger before he chided himself. Jokaste was always a sort of mother hen. Whenever Laurent bit his nails she painted them a deep blue or a dark black and made sure they had so many coats that it was almost vile to put his lips to them. They took a long time to dry. When she caught Laurent looking in the mirror and measuring his waist with his hands she would find the nearest yogurt stand and force him to eat his and a bit of hers and she would steer him away from all mirrors.

 

‘You’re too skinny and it’s not healthy to judge yourself all the time. I love you Laurent but you worry me sometimes. Skin and bones is fun until you break. Meat keeps all the men around,’ she had winked at him and shoved the last of her yogurt at him. She saved all the boba at the bottom for him because she knew how much he loved it.

 

Jokaste was a good mediator, a great best friend and a lifelong coach. She was the pillar of support Laurent needed and he tried his best to be there for her all the same, even when she went through a post-break-up depression after she left Damen. She later had fallen for Kastor, Damen’s brother and had felt horrible for it for years. It wasn’t until Laurent nailed the idea into her head that she understood: She loved Kastor for the man he was and not the blood he harbored inside. She had loved Damen but now she loved Kastor and what mattered more was that she was happy, that he loved her. She and Damen knew their love was far too linked for them to be distant so they became best friends instead. Without the passionate sex making or dinner dates that she used to gush about. Based on Jokaste’s spilling over the years it seemed Damen was quite the gentle giant. A gentleman. Laurent had laughed.

 

‘Then why did you leave him?’ Laurent had asked.

‘Because,’ Jokaste replied with strawberry yogurt dripping from her bottom lip, ‘I don’t love him the way he loves me. He deserves more.’ and she had left it at that.

 

“I know,” Damen sighed into the phone, there was shuffling and the sound of papers being moved, “Theo.”

 

The name made Laurent shiver but he focused his attention back on the matter at hand. He needed to let Damen know that he couldn’t do it. Not to Jokaste even if it was what wanted (she could be stubborn), and not to himself or Damen. Not Theo. Theo needed a guardian figure to be there for him whenever and wherever but Laurent was not in the right place or mind to do so. He could barely take care of himself.

 

“I can’t,” Laurent whispered and held his breath for the response.

“Together-” Damen cut in quickly, implying the impossible to Laurent.

 

He knew Jokaste, he knew Theo as he was now at the age of five and had been growing steadily since the day he was born. He did not know Damen and he barely knew himself. It hurt his heart how much he needed Jokaste. He needed her to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay, that he could do it, that he wasn’t alone. But now he was alone.

 

“No,” Laurent replied. His lips shut tight when they began to shake. He was crumbling.

“We have to,” Damen insisted and Laurent could feel both their walls crumbling at the same time.

“I don’t know how,” Laurent said but Damen pushed further.

“It’s just a title, and I’ll take care of everything- I will. For her. For Theo, for you-” Laurent cut him off immediately.

“You don’t know me.”

“But I will. This is what she wanted. This is what he needs, Laurent. Please.”

The please was whispered and it came strangled like it was being forced out of the mouth of a dying man. Laurent almost laughed at the irony of it. Everything was being ripped out of his hands at once.

 

He needed this. He needed another anchor. He needed Jokaste. She was gone but in her place came the light of a five year old and a man he’d never met. A chance to keep going. He was terrified of it all.

 

Laurent made the move to hang up and Damen must have sensed it because he trudged on.

 

“Laurent we both know he needs us more than ever. We do this for her, we take care of him. We split up the control between the both of us, both guardians, separate. We’ll take turns keeping him and we raise him to be the man we both know Jokaste wants him to be. We have to do this and I need you involved. I can not do it alone either. Please, I beg you.” Damen sounds broken and Laurent feels awful for thinking he could just walk away. He wants to shut down his walls and curl up for a few hours in self pity, and maybe drink a few bottles of cheap wine in the process. Jokaste had been there for him in those times. She pulled him from the darkness and showed him the light.

 

Laurent thought about Theo and of his own childhood and decided he didn’t want to be the reason why a boy would grow up broken.

 

“We take care of him together,” Laurent decides aloud, and realizes he’s talking without a filter. The words continue to roll off his tongue, “But he will not go back and forth. He’s young and impressionable and I do not want him being confused. We can speak of arrangements later but we should read the papers and go over them together for now.”

 

He’s met with silence again but it does not last long.

 

“Okay,” Damen says and Laurent releases the tension from his shoulders. He had been tense during the duration of the call.

 

They take an hour or two of their time going over the legal documents, coming to conclusion and drawing a line at the rules they had decided. Together they would keep Jokaste’s memories living, they would take care of her only son and they would do it all for her. 

 

Needless to say Laurent was emotionally drained and horrified at his decisions by the end of the phone call. It did not help that he still had to call the funeral home and plan an entire funeral himself. Damen had offered assistance and Laurent had selfishly decided to do it himself. It’s exactly what Jokaste would have wanted. Or not wanted, but Laurent was petty and he figured Jokaste would forgive him for not being there when she died. Maybe if he had another way of being involved with the last moment of her life. It hurt the more he thought about it. The idea that everything he ever worked hard for, whatever he had held close, and whoever had chosen to be with him were drifting away. 

 

He found it in himself to call the home and to lay down the basis, a simple elegant funeral that wasn’t outrageous as one might of thought as Jokaste was loud and vibrant in everyday life. Jokaste truly cared more about the people who attended rather than the type of chairs they sat on.

 

Laurent set his phone down long after the two calls but found himself unable to move.

 

“I’m going to take care of a kid.”

 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The funeral takes place the following Sunday and Laurent drops everything including his work calls and important meetings to grieve for the woman who was his best friend. For the past week he had warn nothing but black not only to grieve but also because looking in the mirror only reminded him of her death and suddenly even bright colors felt heavy on him. He could hardly look in the mirror anymore and he felt himself measuring his waist and biting his nails until the skin around his nails bled. The dark red nail polish was chipped away nearly all but the clumps left behind. Laurent tried to keep them in memory of Jokaste and then decided he was being stupid and went back to biting.

 

The funeral took place at a church Jokaste had used to attend when she was a young girl. Her parents were religious by passing DNA and forced their daughter to attend in hopes she would get a front row seat to Heaven. Based on what Jokaste had told him it seemed like the church hadn’t changed in all its years of use. The church itself was erected high as twice the size of a 7-Eleven in their small town. It was the type of white paint that was hard on the eye if you stared too long and it looked like it had recently been worked on with modern columns and glass doors. Inside the walls were white but decorated with reds and blues and paintings of cupids and images of saints. The podium was replaced with a space made for the closed casket and there were already a group of elderly weeping women surrounding it.

 

Laurent had the task of designing the funeral but looking at in person shook the breath of confidence he had spent the morning trying to conjure. He was not ready to face her for the last time. Not like this.

 

He stalks the back of the church with his hands wringing as he eyes the small groups of friends and family and those kind enough to stop by and show condolences. Laurent wants to shake each and every one of them and even himself and say, “Wake up! She’s not dead and everything is going to be okay.”

 

Laurent’s choice of clothing was a black shoulder top gifted from Jokaste the third time she had taken him shopping. It was seven years ago that Jokaste had taken it upon herself to take Laurent under her wing and take him shopping. She had said it was a good cure for Laurent’s recent breakup and an even better excuse to get out of doing their college homework. There were pretty knots tied together leaving a wide circle of skin to show Laurent’s pale shoulders and the sleeves were long and covered the tips of his fingers as they sprouted out like blossoming flowers. He matched the shirt the best he could with black dress pants and had been too mentally perplexed to match his shoes. His work shoes would do. They were black. They fit well for the occasion. 

  
  


Before he can even think of catching the tear that threatens to slip from his right eye he feels the warmth of someone’s breath on his exposed shoulder and he shivers. He turns to the source and nearly leans into the chest of a large male.

 

The man who Laurent thought to be Damen was wearing an expensive looking tux. Rather than black it was a shade of peach that stood out among the drab dark. It was unexpected and yet Laurent thought it fit him well.

 

Before Laurent could comment or think of brushing away the stray tear that fell, Damen stuttered on delivering his greeting.

 

“She said this color fit me best.” Damen smiled but it hardly matched his piss-poor posture and dark eyebags. Laurent supposed Jokaste would get enough sleep for the both of them. 

 

Laurent turned his head away to keep from staring and blankly wiped away the tear with his index finger. He wasn’t sure what to say. He only knew it was Damen because he looked like Kastor. Laurent had met Kastor and to this day still didn’t approve of him but understood that Jokaste was happy and that she was in safe enough arms that he couldn’t complain. Damen was similar in bone structure but far more attractive up close. His nose was sharper and his eyes warmer and his eyes seemed to smile with his lips. And Jokaste used to _talk_ _for hours_ about his dimples.

 

“It does,” Laurent says and then walks as calm as possible to the front isle reserved for family. If he got any weird stares he paid no attention to them. He chose the row on the left where it was empty and two rows were free to himself. The pastor was nowhere to be seen, yet, and Laurent thought to keep to himself when he heard and then felt someone sit beside him. Close enough to rattle him and make him slightly uncomfortable. It was Damen.

 

Laurent thought to ask something or maybe bring up Jokaste in conversation and that’s when it hit him. For days he had bottled it inside and kept it inside his chest. He willed it away and told himself breaking down would mean defeat and that he was one step closer to letting go. He wanted to hold on.

 

He hadn’t realized he had been shaking until the sudden embrace caught him off guard. Damen had turned and enveloped him in a hug- not before warning him, or so Laurent thought he heard. His cheeks felt wet suddenly but he couldn’t bother to ask whose they were. When the pastor appeared it took all of Laurent’s strength not to sob into Damen’s arms but he did let the tears fall as he let himself be comforted by someone. The arms around him were strong  and Laurent thought for a moment that they were almost like Jocasta's but thicker. This thought then made him sob and only then he let the man he barely knew hold him, rock him gently as he cried.

 

In the middle of this mess of snot and tears and often the chorus of broken sobs coming from Jokaste’s distant family- as her parents had died long ago, Laurent had calmed enough to peak up and stare up at the now open casket. He was close but not close enough to see her face. All he saw was the outline of her cheek and the tip of her pointy nose.

 

In order to keep himself from losing it again he let Damen pull him in tighter and he curled up into him like a ball. There were no more tears to shed but Damen seemed full of them and it was enough for the both of them. For Jokaste.

 

The service ended an hour later and as people dwindled out Laurent and Damen remained seated and stared at the casket with hooded eyes. Laurent had turned to face the front but lazily leaned his head carefully on Damen’s shoulder for support but otherwise kept the rest of his body to himself. It was quiet and they didn’t speak, not even long after everyone had left and they were alone.

 

In fear of trauma that both Laurent and Damen did not want for Theo they decided on having Theo spend that evening with distant relatives. They had earlier in the week agreed to a three room apartment in the city where commute for both their works were close and near a good school for Theo to attend. Even closer was the therapist assigned to Theo.

 

Damen had walked towards the casket and had spent long minutes talking to himself- to Jokaste rather, in an intimate and private conversation. Laurent tuned him out and found himself staring at the wall in front of him instead. At that very moment he wondered why there wasn’t more black to fit the feeling in his chest- no, his heart. He had not felt this empty and lost in a long time. With Jokaste there was never a dull or boring moment.

 

He joined Damen at the casket finally as the sun settled and the cleaning crew had arrived and he took his final moments to press a kiss gingerly to her forehead. He caved suddenly and shrank like a child. He doubled over the edge of the casket and caught himself by gripping the wood beneath his sweaty hands and felt himself heaving. Damen was there beside him, closer, and caught his waist with one hand wrapped tight around him. At that moment he was the pillar Laurent needed as he lost himself. He was saying goodbye, finally. He did not have words to say so he dipped his head back and prayed that Jokaste could hear his heart. Everything he wanted to say. 

 

Laurent and Damen were able to carry the casket themselves with the help of men they had hired rather than the false pretense of relatives who barely knew Jokaste if not for the blood in their veins. Laurent knew all too well they knew her of name and had cried out of sympathy and not because they had truly known her as Laurent had. What Jokaste and Laurent had was closer than just a family bond. A soulmate bond in which the two were utterly inseparable in every way.

 

Damen convinced Laurent to spend the night before they were to meet Theo at the new apartment. Laurent had insisted on going home alone but found himself getting into Damen’s car. The ride was silent for no reason other than the fact that they both knew that if one or the other were to speak it would be complete wreckage all over again. They had to be strong. Or so Laurent told himself.

 

At the apartment Laurent fell asleep curled up on the couch and woke up with a hand-made quilt blanket Laurent had once seen in a photo. It was a photo of Jokaste and Damen snuggling together under the blanket on a date in which they had fallen asleep together on their college couch surrounded by snack crumbs and beers. The same blanket had seemed to shrink in age and was falling apart. It was bound either by the memory one could not forget or the sheer force of will of a project that took blood and sweat. It was all jagged lines of vibrant blues, reds and yellows that crossed and had the feel of yarn. It was heavy enough to keep warm but was useless in the heat of a summer and left forgotten in the corner of a closet.

 

Laurent rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes and found Damen outside on the deck beside the couch where the glass sliding doors were. Laurent could see over Damen’s hunched frame that he was holding a photo close to his face. It was of Jokaste from her wedding day dressed heavily in a fluffy white gown as she wrapped her arms around both Kastor and Damen. The shot was taken during a private moment because none of the faces in the photo seemed to acknowledge the person taking it. Laurent felt a thump in his chest that he dismissed. He sat up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulder as he stepped towards the doors and joined Damen outside.

 

If Damen had heard his entrance he didn’t make a sound to greet him. He stood hunched over the railing with the photo pressed between his thumb and forefinger but his eyes were elsewhere. Laurent stood by his side and offered his arm out in question and when Damen made no clear answer he stood on the top of his toes and threw one side of the blanket over Damen’s shoulder. He was large and took up a lot of space and it took a few tries before Damen gripped the corner of the blanket and moved closer to Laurent. Like this they leaned against each other and stared up at the sky.

 

This. This was enough.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Laurent woke up when a weight was shifted from his side and the difference in support had his shoulder falling into the couch. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes and forced himself to push aside the blanket. He was still in the previous day’s wear and was fatigued with his thoughts. His eyes followed the shadow in the corner of his eyes and it came to him in small snippets of how Laurent had held Damen as he let himself give in to grief. It was Laurent who let Damen cry into his neck when Laurent could no longer give his own tears and was instead the support Damen needed. 

 

Laurent stood and pushed his feet to the kitchen where he remembered briefly that he had yet to eat and that it would be the type of morning without coffee. His mouth was the portal to which his cranky mood would begin. He felt the numbness creep from the bottom of his stomach to the top of his throat. It was buried so deep inside hewould think it was his imagination.

 

He checked his phone to see a series of missed calls and unanswered messages none of which pertained to work matter so he set them aside and focused on supporting himself against the marble counter and counting the seams on his shoes instead. Damen had disappeared down the hall. 

 

Laurent came to the sound of his phone-, it was the distant sound of Damen’s phone going off. He heard a whisper of conversation and then the sound of one bedroom door closing until he could hear nothing at all. He willed himself to look anywhere else. Slowly he returned messages one by one with impersonal responses and only replied with short clip work-related answers.

 

When Damen returned he was dressed in a casual outfit that was a Coca Cola shirt and black jeans. His hair was still a disarray and with the light coming from behind him where the glass sliding doors were Laurent could see what Jokaste had seen in him. Damen’s gaze was cool and aloof but it grounded him nonetheless. It was the realness of the situation that kept him present.

 

Their staring contest broke when Damen spoke first, “It’s time to pick up Theo,” and he went to the fridge. He opened the door to look inside and came to the same conclusion Laurent had.

 

“And after we should go shopping.”

 

Laurent simply nodded. He thought better of going home and sitting in his bed as he sulked alone. There was no going back now. He had signed the papers and it was done. She was gone. That’s all there was to it. He looked around while Damen fiddled on the phone before they left the apartment together. 

 

Laurent did not want to mention the funeral nor the night they spent pressed against each other. Whereas Damen seemed to give off an inviting warmth that called to everyone around him and even a distant Laurent who was at first unwilling and guarded. In the end he had been persuaded by Damen’s softness and sad eyes and had given himself just that to get through it. IT being Jokaste’s death. Yet to be brought up. Jokaste was was intelligent and made everyone around her aware of her intentions. She either held you close or kept you purposefully at a distance and you knew which one at any given time.

 

Jokaste understood Laurent’s hesitation at physical contact for many years before she had broken through to him, finally, but never abused his willingness. She always hesitated not in fear but gave time for Laurent to give consent. Damen felt safe but Laurent had known Jokaste was safe. When Laurent looked at Damen he felt he could see Jokaste in his eyes, or at least a part of her he had known well. The two of them were similar in a lot of ways. It was easy for Laurent to forgive and forget his careless actions. He needed a pillar now that Jokaste was gone. She had been the last of the people in his life that he had held onto as tight as he could. It seemed she wouldn’t truly be the last.

 

Laurent loved that Jokaste could also be a mystery in the way she kept things to herself. There was an air to her that reminded everyone around her that at times she was still untouchable no matter how much she gave. And there was so much she gave.

 

Damen drove them both to Jokaste’s relative’s house where they picked up Theo. Laurent could see the questions hanging off the young boy’s thick eyebrows and the way his brown eyes made their way around the room. It was crowded but quiet and even Laurent could feel the awkwardness seep into his skin. He found Theo alone playing with his toys and approached him slowly.

 

“Theo,” Laurent said softly and hoped he didn’t spook the boy. He wants to say her name and tell him everything she had ever said to Laurent about him. From the way she spoke of him all the time, how much she loved Theo to death and how much he reminded her of Kastor and how he was the bundle of joy in the world. She thought of him as the last missing piece to a puzzle she had been working on since she was born. Laurent knit his eyebrows together and squatted down to Theo’s eye level.

 

The boy with olive skin, brown eyes and even darker brown hair of curls looked at Laurent with a deflated, curious expression. He looked between his toys and Laurent and decided on keeping his attention on his toys but seemed to keep his ears strained on Laurent at the same time. Laurent cleared his throat and looked back at Damen who had taken place as the comforted and was swarmed around by family members patting his back and spouting apologies Laurent nor Damen would want to hear.

 

“Your mother wanted Damen and I to take care of you,” Laurent said carefully and narrowed his eyes at his internal thoughts. Suddenly his chest was tight again and he froze, unsure whether or not he could continue. He felt a presence behind him and visibly relaxed. From the corner of his eye he could see Damen leaning over on his knees to watch Theo.

 

“If that’s okay we’d like to take you home and set up your room. There are more toys there, the ones your mother got you, remember? All your stuff is there. Do you want to go home, Theo?” It took everything for Laurent not to break down then and there.

 

Theo looked at the two of them and put one of his toy trains down and continued to stare until he spoke, slurring his words, “But mommy isn’t there.”

 

Laurent paled and reached forward for Theo, maybe to hold him or ground himself and Damen surged forward. He was quicker than Laurent and grabbed onto Theo’s hands. He held them and whispered to Theo softly and Laurent leaned into every word.

 

“Mommy will always be there, Theo,” Damen pointed one finger at Theo’s chest to which he meant his heart. “She is watching over you right now, you know? She says she’s proud of you, and that she loves you. She says you need to grow up and be a strong boy so that she can see you again.”

 

Laurent swallows and steadies himself by placing his hands on either side of his legs as he crouched closer to the two of them, Damen by his side as he held Theo’s hands tight in his.

 

Theo nodded his head silently and began picking up his toys and Laurent distracted himself by quickly conversing with a few of the relatives as Damen helped Theo pack up his bag with toys and personal items he refused to leave without. When the group of family members were done kissing the top of Theo’s head as Damen held him in his arms, Laurent lead them out of the house and into the car. They dropped by the grocery store first and made it to their new apartment mid day. It was a three bedroom apartment that had decently sized rooms varying in angles and width with chipped walls from wear. Neither Laurent nor Damen felt comfortable changing up their own homes so they had come to the decision that they’d just take up on the offer of one of Jocasta's relatives that they’d let them stay in the apartment they were renting. 

 

Laurent was in the kitchen making a quick lunch of grilled cheese and cherry tomatoes while Damen helped Theo place his toys around the living room floor and didn’t have a single complaint even when he tripped over one or two of them on the way to the kitchen. Theo was relatively quiet but Laurent understood it would take time for Theo to fully understand and grasp the situation and then Laurent and Damen would be there for him when he needed it. For now it was little steps.

 

Laurent answered a call towards the end of lunch and disappeared to his room. He had to return to work despite his boss’s protest to take longer time off but Laurent was a busy body and needed to use his hands to keep cool. He did not need time to think. He needed to move.

 

Damen gave Laurent a cool look when Laurent came out in work clothes and a bag on his arm. Laurent carefully ruffled the hair on Theo’s head and gave Damen a quick glance before addressing Theo directly.

“Theo, I’m off to work. While I’m gone I’m sure Damen can play some games with you or you two can set up the TV together so you have something to watch. I’ll be home after dinner,” and he looked at Damen, “So don’t let him up too late.” He looked past Theo and Damen’s figure to somewhere on the wall behind them but couldn’t find a single thing to steady his eyes on. He was still out of sorts and numb and the words coming out of his mouth didn’t feel like his. Laurent wasn’t domestic.

 

Damen went back to playing with Theo when he remained quiet but looked up as Laurent left the apartment. Before Laurent could close the door behind him Damen called out, “Have a good night at work.” Laurent closed and locked the door behind him and went to work.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Laurent walks in into a mess. There are pieces of children’s clothing thrown about on the carpet but there aren’t any culprits inside. He closes the door behind him with the heel of his foot and struggles to get all the groceries in his arms onto the kitchen island when he hears a door shut. He starts sorting out the items when he feels a presence beside him. He turns to see a big goofy grin on Damen’s face. In his hands he’s holding up and showing Laurent a horribly drawn photo of three stick figures- oddly jointed in places, standing in front of a house. 

Laurent takes the photo into his hand, smiling because written on top of the two tallest stick figures is ‘D a D s’. Damen snatches the photo away from Laurent before he can wrinkle it and turns to stick it to the fridge with a magnet shaped like a family of bears. Laurent watches him and leans his back against the counter while fondly watching the scene unfold.

“He made this today in class,” Damen says while facing Laurent, still smiling ear to ear. 

Laurent pushed a bag of groceries aside and smiled back at Damen. His eyes wandered past Damen to where he expected Theo to come running around the counter as usual. Except it’s far too quiet. Laurent quirks an eyebrow in question and Damen’s smile dips. 

“He had a fight with some kids today but he’s okay. He cried for a bit but I got him to settle down and take a nap.” Damen explained.

Laurent wouldn’t have just put him to bed to make him feel better but he trusted Damen’s judgement and let it be. He turned away to start putting things away and stopped when he felt Damen come behind him. Without having to ask Damen ran his fingers through Laurent’s hair, slowly, just the way he likes and pushed it aside onto one shoulder. It was long enough to reach past his shoulders and would need a good cut soon. Damen rested his hands slowly on Laurent’s shoulders and felt them relax.

“How was work?” Damen prompted and began massaging Laurent’s shoulders.

Laurent simply shrugged and sighed. His shoulders relaxed quickly so he turned to Damen and leaned into his chest and felt Damen’s arms wrap around him. Pulling him in, Laurent could not remember a time he had felt so warm and safe. It had been four years since Jokaste’s death and yet he could still feel her presence on his chest once in a while, simply because he had told his therapists to fuck off whenever they told him to move on. 

“How was yours?” Laurent countered softly and tried to enjoy the warmth as much as possible knowing that Theo could wake up whenever and steal their time. 

Laurent felt Damen shrug and laughed into his shoulder. Then he felt Damen pull back and Laurent knew what he was going to say. He put his hand up to stop him and shook his head. He had to gather himself still.

“It’s her anniversary,” Damen whispered and it stopped Laurent’s train of thought altogether. He wanted to forget no matter how much he couldn’t stop thinking about her, as much as he tried hard to keep her alive. 

 

Laurent leaned into Damen again and Damen caught him. 

“Shall we give Theo another story?” Laurent asked.

Damen gave a short smile and rubbed Laurent’s forearms. 

“How about the one where you and her got caught drinking and running in the mall when they were closed?” Damen recoiled when Laurent punched him in the arm and laughed. 

“How about the one when her father came outside with a shotgun and tried to shoot you on your first date?” Laurent sneered playfully. 

Damen pouted at him and tried to hug him but Laurent turned to get away and was pulled back by two arms wrapping around his waist. He gave in immediately and found himself relaxing again. It was easy learning to grieve in a way that wasn’t harmful, in a way that didn’t have to hurt anymore. 

Damen rested his head on Laurent’s head and breathed deeply. Laurent felt Damen’s heartbeat on his back. 

“How about we tell him about the time she first saw him and cried for four days straight? She never let him go or let anyone hold him. Not even me or my brother. She held onto him so tight.” Damen said sadly.

Laurent hummed and added, “And now we can do that for her. She’s still here,” he says and holds a fist to his heart. “I just wish she could see him now. Her son. Our son.”

Damen kisses Laurent’s ear and holds him tighter. 

“She can see him. She can.” 

  
  
  


**_FIN_ **


End file.
